Big brother's big brother
by Yandere Kirkland chan
Summary: When England catches cold all he wants is to have tea and relax, but his plans are destroyed when a certain peppy American decides to drop in. What will America do when his big brother needs a big brother's help?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 **A/N: Hey, guys! This is my first ever fic so I've decided to do something a lot of people have done before: a Hetalia England sick fic. It was meant to be a one page short story but I started rambling in the introduction so it's ended up slightly longer. First things first: I do not own Hetalia, batman or Mc Donalds (the last two are just mentioned once or twice). I hope you are not offended by anything and I really hope you like this story, thanks!**

 **Name note:**

 **England=Arthur Oliver Kirkland**

 **America= Alfred.**

 **France= Francis Bonnefoy.**

England sighed, _another pointless world meeting,_ he thought as he trudged through his country's signature rain. Sometimes he thought things would be better if the personified countries stood back and let their people take care of the world's problems. A violent sneeze broke his train of thought. _That's odd, I have become accustomed to the cold and rain so it doesn't normally affect me._ He shook his head and continued walking. _It's probably just the stress._

(P-A-G-E-B-R-E-A-K)

America trotted along enthusiastically, humming the _Batman_ theme. It was pouring with rain, how very typical of his ex-brother's country. The general gloom of England's weather probably had something to do with the country's grumpy old personification.

He chuckled. He was actually going to see his old care taker now, since he was already in England as the latest meeting was held here. _I bet a hero like me can cheer up that grumpy old man!_

(P-A-G-E—B-R-E-A-K)

Fitful coughs rocked his body as England managed to stumble through his front door. "Bloody hell!" the nation exclaimed through heaving breaths. Honestly, when was the last time he had fallen ill like this? He sometimes got sick from things affecting his people (he had a permanent migraine during his punk days) but everything was well (if a bit boring) in his country.

"Ugh, no matter, I will just have some tea and scones and be of to bed, there is nothing like peace and quiet to…"

"Hey Iggy!" a way-too-loud, optimistic voice cut his sentence short. _So much for peace and quiet_ , he thought. "Ah, Alfred, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Arthur aimed for sarcasm, but ended up sounding exhausted. "Do I need a reason to visit my brother-type-person-who's-not-actually-my-brother-cus-im-too-cool-for-that-stuff!?" Arthur was going to comment on how stupid that sounded but was stopped by another coughing fit.

America stood back watching his old mentor seemingly attempted to cough his lungs out. The tea cup he had been holding lay shattered on the floor. "Don't worry, Artie, the hero will save you!" America stated, chucking the older nation over his shoulder. "Get of me, you wanker! Unhand me at once, git! Put-me-down-this-INSTANCE, TWAT!" and other protests were heard between painful coughs. America ignored him, laughing.

After a few wrong turns (honestly, why did one man need such a big house?) Alfred dropped the poorly Brit onto his bed. He was alarmed to find Arthur no longer raging, but, instead, taking in shallow, gasping breaths. _Oops, probably shouldn't have held him upside down!_ "Don't worry, Iggy, I'll help you get better! Just wait there and I'll get my things!"

On his way down the stairs, Alfred debated over whether his new super hero name should be _Doctor awesome_ or _Super-cool-healer-man._ He decided against the first one as it made him sound too much like that has-been Prussia **(A/N: don't kill me, I love Prussia, I'm just getting in character!)**

Alfred rolled his eyes when he saw the Brit's kitchen, everyone knows a kitchen only needs a freezer, fridge and microwave! _Okay, Mr Fancy Pants, how do the British make burgers?_ He opened the freezer looking for burgers (he found that even a hot dog would do if you put enough sauce on!) but couldn't see any! He explored the containers. "' _Real Cornish ice-cream?'_ What does that even mean?!"

To his absolute astonishment, America couldn't find a single patty! Not even some fries or 'chips' (Whatever). "Oh, Iggy, no wonder France says you have no taste! Luckily for you I have good old Macky-D home delivery on speed dial!" He knows Mc Donalds doesn't technically have a home delivery service, but, Alfred found, that with a winning smile (and lots of *cough* tips *cough*) you can get what you want.

He didn't know what Iggy preferred, so he ordered 5 of everything on the menu, just to be on the safe side! _Iggy needs to eat lots of good food if he wants to get better quickly!_ Alfred flicked through the TV stations while waiting for the food to arrive.

 **A/N: Okay! So that's it for now, please tell me how you liked it in the comments, it would really help me. I will be updating this soon, probably next week. I will mainly update on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays once a week, unless I have a test, writer's block or am on holiday (if I'm on holiday I will probably be writing chapters in my note book so I can update lots at one time when I get back).It would be great for you to comment so I'm not talking to myself but if you are actually reading this then I'm doing better than I thought I would!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 **A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm updating this so soon because I wasn't really sure how it works and wanted to try it out. Once again I do not own Hetalia, McDonalds, Vick's vapour rub or anything I've missed. Please forgive me for dissing root beer but most English people hate it, I know, I know but you know what English taste is like (*cough*superior to everyone else's*cough*) and I'm sure you'll agree scones are nice! Anyway enjoy…**

 **Notes:**

 **England=Arthur Oliver Kirkland**

 **America= Alfred.**

 **France= Francis Bonnefoy.**

 **Canada=Mathew Williams**

 **Kolkolkol-what Russia does when he's angry, look it up in google images or something.**

The doorbell rang, causing Alfred to run at it, like a peppy puppy when the mail man's arrived. The tired Brit delivery driver recoiled slightly as the door was abruptly opened and the food he was delivering was wrenched from his hands, the door was then slammed on his face and he was left to wonder what had just happened and why he was still working in McDonalds after five master degrees. The door then opened again and £35, $5 and a button was dropped into his hand.

(P-A-G-E—B-R-E-A-K)

"IGGY, IGGY, IGGY!" America burst into the room. The sudden loud sound made England flinch and the room start to spin slightly. He would have objected to the volume and nickname but his throat was raw so he decided to stay mute.

"Here!" America shouted, and, before England could process what was happening, something was dropped onto his forehead. At impact, the big mac America had just chucked, oozed cold grease onto the Brit's face and England had to screw his eyes shut to protect them, "Wh-what the hell was that for, you git?!" Arthur croaked, no longer able to refrain from speech. "Sit back and my super cool doctor skills will heal you!"

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but was unable as a fillet-of-fish was shoved into his mouth. "I know how much you like fish and chips, Iggy, this is just a nicer version!" Arthur sat up abruptly, half spitting out, half throwing up the contents of his mouth. The burger on his head went flying. "You gith! My nothe ith bwocked, I couldet bweathe! Bethideth that _thing_ ith grothe!" America had to bite back laughter at England's hilarious sick voice. "It'th not funny, I…" England was cut off by another coughing fit. America quickly stuck a cup in front of his face "Here, drink this, Iggy." Arthur sniffed the drink and instantly started coughing and gagging. It burnt his nostrils and smelled strongly _of vick's vapour rub_ but the Brit highly doubted America had thought of giving him actual _medicine_ "Waths vat thupposed to be?" he asked suspiciously. "Oh, Iggy, it's only root beer, you have to drink lots of liquids if you want to get better!" and with that America shoved the contents of the cup down poor Arthur's throat and. This time Arthur really did throw up. "That's it, Iggy, get all that mean bacteria out!" America said, oblivious to the kolkolkoling aimed at him that would make Russia proud. _Stupid git._

(P-A-G-E—B-R-E-A-K)

America looked through the door at the sleeping Brit. Arthur had passed out a while ago when America had told him that there were at least 65 more food items down stairs Alfred had chosen especially for him. _Poor Arthur,_ America thought, _I should have known he couldn't handle that level of excitement while he's sick._

America's brows furrowed, England really didn't look very good. His skin was pale except for his flushed cheeks. His breaths were gasping and wheezing and he was sweating and shivering like crazy. Doubt suddenly clouded America's mind, maybe he couldn't cure Arthur with just some McDonalds. The thought shocked him, McDonalds was all he had ever needed to get better, but then, he hardly ever got sick. When _was_ the last time he had been sick?

(F-L-A-S-H—B-A-C-K)

I buried my face in my pillow, crying softly. I felt sick. There was no other way of describing it. My head was spinning, I couldn't breathe and my bed was soaked in cold sweat. I lifted my head slightly, to look at my identical twin. Mathew was sleeping soundly next to me.

I wanted to scream out for help, but, when I opened my mouth, I found that my throat was dry and no sound came out. I tried getting out of bed It worked, I started taking small steps towards the door but at the last moment my legs gave way and I fell silently to the floor. Panic seized me as I lay motionless on the floor. I started hyperventilating and my vision went black. "Help me…"

Suddenly, sturdy, gentle hands were holding me. I opened my eyes and kind green eyes met my gaze. Arthur whispered words of comfort as he rubbed my back. He rocked me back and forth and sung songs of the sea. I relaxed and started drifting of in my big brother's arms…

(F-L-A-S-H—B-A-C-K—E-N-D)

America was sitting down, watching TV. He couldn't bring himself to watch England sick, it was too… _weird._ England had always been there for him when he was sick or injured even before modern medicine was invented. But who would help England when he needed help? "Time to call for back up!" America declared. He pulled his phone out and typed in the numbers. "Hey, Mattie, can you come over? England's not feeling well and I don't know what to do! So you'll come, right? Great! See you soon!"

"I…" Canada started, but his brother had already hung up. _I guess I'm going to England's house then,_ he thought, tucking his phone away.

 **A/N: So there's another chapter! This story won't be very long but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I will update again next week. Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, followed or favourited my story, I hope it was worth it! Please tell me what you thought in the comments I appreciate all feedback! Thank you everyone, bye!**


End file.
